


Behind closed doors.

by bluesfortheredj



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Rough Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, loving relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25001221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesfortheredj/pseuds/bluesfortheredj
Summary: It's a hard job working for Mr Lee, but someone's got to do it.
Relationships: Gwilym Lee/Reader, Gwilym Lee/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7
Collections: Bohemian Rhapsody Cast Summer 2020Event





	Behind closed doors.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writequeenwalks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writequeenwalks/gifts).



It was subtle at first; the way your top teeth sunk into your bottom lip when you heard him shouting down the phone at someone, then when you crossed your legs underneath the desk as his fist came down to bang on the table in front of him through frustration, and finally the way your breath hitched whenever he was near, instructing you on what to do next in his familiar authoritative tone. All of these feelings were completely new to you and very unexpected; you’d never felt like _this_ over someone acting so dominant, it had never done anything for you before butit must be because of who it is. Mr Lee was your boss, the managing director of the company you were at, and you were his secretary; sitting in a little glass office directly next to his, only one thin window separating you both for five days of the week.

You were a few months into the job now and the telltale signs of your excitement over him asserting his position had certainly not gone unnoticed by the man himself; his eyes wandering over to that window every time he raised his voice just to see those teeth dip into your plump lip, his fist hitting the desk in a rage purely to see you crossing your legs and squeezing yourself tight at the action, and the way he’d drop a file on your desk unnecessarily loudly before using his stern tone to inform you what to do with it just to see your chest puff out as you hold your breath and wait for him to finish. How to progress from here though, he had no idea. Feelings he wasn’t used to were flooding his veins when he saw you, and he was desperate to both make you scream his name while you were bent over his desk and make you breakfast in bed; it was all very bewildering for him.

“Mr Lee, I have Eric from sales on the phone,” you say quietly, standing in the doorway that leads from his office to yours, “shall I put him through?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes before nodding, “go on, put him through.”

His eyes stay trained on your bum as your hips sway from side to side in the tight black pencil skirt you definitely hadn’t worn before, then as you turn to the side to pick up the phone he quickly averts his gaze to the phone that sits beside his hand. The call is brief and he’s soon back to eyeing you up through the window, lust clouding his stare as he watches your every move.

“(Y/N), could you come here please?” he asks, swallowing down his initial nerves about taking the first step.

“Yes Mr Lee?”

“Take a seat,” he instructs, gesturing with his hand to the chair opposite him.

You sit down, your knees together and angled to the side to protect your dignity, and your hands clasped as they rest on your lap.

“From now on I will require you to wear a black pencil skirt and white blouse every day to the office,” he states confidently, watching your face for some kind of clue as to how you feel about this instruction, “understood?”

He notices a smile tugging at one side of your mouth until you manage to get it under control, “yes Sir, understood.”

“Good. You may go.”

From then on he changes the way he acts around you, his body leaning in much closer than before, his arm around the back of your chair as he peers over your shoulder to make sure what you’re doing is correct while his warm breath ghosts over your neck causing goosebumps to rise along your skin, and the temptation to reach out to him almost overwhelms you on more than one occasion. The days blur together, all in a fog of desperation and need to feel him on your body in whatever way possible, and he can tell that you’re practically begging for him to do something about it.

“I need you,” he calls out sternly, making you jump in your seat.

You immediately rush to stand in front of his desk with your hands by your sides, waiting for him to say something, anything, and your breath halts as his mouth eventually opens.

“You sent the wrong letter out,” he says, balling up a piece of paper in his fist before throwing it past you and onto the floor, “go and pick that up.”

You turn away from his desk just as he rises from his seat then he follows you across the room where you bend down to pick up the discarded paper, and as your fingertips grab at the crumpled mess, a strong hand slaps your backside, jolting you forwards so much you end up with your palms and knees against the carpeted floor. You take a gulp as you feel him kneeling next to you but there’s no way you wanted to stop him from doing whatever it was he had planned.

“What have you got to say for yourself?” he asks, his lips pressed against your hair as one hand curls gently around your neck and the other rests on your buttock.

“Sorry,” you exhale softly.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Sorry Sir,” you reply louder.

His hand circles your bum over the skirt then lifts from the fabric and comes down with one more hard smack that makes you moan out loud as the imprint of his hand stings your skin pleasurably.

“Do you want me to do that again?” he whispers, his nose buried in your hair as his fingers tighten ever so slightly on your neck.

“Yes Sir, please,” you beg instantly.

He takes his hand away from your neck, slips a pencil out from his top pocket and places it between your teeth before his hand resumes its position, his fingers gripping the exposed skin of your neck a little harder than before causing you to inhale sharply. You can feel your teeth sinking into the soft wood of the pencil already, the paint that coats it surely cracking as you bite down in preparation, then his hand strokes around your backside once more before being pulled away. Your jaw clenches, your eyes squeeze shut, and then you feel it again, that sweet arousing sting of pain as his large hand meets your skirt after bringing it upon you with as much power as he can muster.

“Again?” he asks.

You nod fervently with only a whimper drifting over the pencil that is now wedged between your teeth and he leans down to kiss the back of your shirt before his hand slaps your cheeks in turn repeatedly, your short pants turning into moans with each spank; your body jutting forwards and pressing your neck further into his open hand. After what you count to be twelve hard smacks he suddenly stops and takes his hands away from your body as his chest heaves with excitement.

“Stand up,” he instructs, and you do as he says as he says while wincing with the pain of your buttocks.

He steps towards you, placing his finger tips on the end of the pencil before taking it out of your mouth with a line of saliva following it, then wipes your chin with his thumb before threading his fingers through your hair and pulling tightly on it while he stands almost nose to nose with you.

“Think carefully about the answer to this question...” he warns, “do you want to continue?”

You’d been waiting for this moment for so long, to be completely under his control and allow him to do whatever he wanted to to your yearning body, and you nod slowly as a whispered ‘yes’ falls softly from your lips.

“If you say the word pencil then I promise I’ll stop,” he reassures, “are you sure you want to carry on?”

“Yes… Sir… _please_ ,” you breathe, your core already feeling slick with arousal.

“Okay. Shirt and skirt off, _now_.”

He lets go of your hair while you hurriedly discard your clothes to reveal the all black set of underwear you’re wearing; it was nothing special really, but it accentuated your figure and had a trim of lace to it which made you feel a little more sexy than usual, and it seemed to work as Mr Lee’s eyes drag themselves up your body slowly, taking in the beautiful sight before him.

“Stand facing the desk,” he orders, then you hear him opening up a cupboard as you walk towards the desk, standing with your hands by your sides obediently, “underwear off,” he then continues, coming up behind you and placing down some cuffs and a metal bar on the desk in front of you.

You quickly wriggle out of everything as he stands inches away from you, the heat of his body radiating onto yours as the excitement in your stomach builds, and when you take a quick glance at him out of the corner of your eye you see that he’s already down to his pants with his shirt undone to show his broad torso.

“Remember the safe word,” he says quietly as he picks up the set of leather cuffs and heads around to his side of the desk where he attaches them to the handle of the centre drawer, “wrists.”

His eyes look from your face to your hands as you hold them out and bend over the desk until your breasts are pressed against the cold wood. He conveyed a lot through one look and you could tell that behind the stern darkness of his eyes that he just wanted you to himself, your body, your mind, everything about you he wanted completely selfishly. His fingers are delicate as they secure the cuffs around your wrists, making sure you had a little room to move but not enough to slip your hands out of the them, then he leans over and kisses your hair, your gaze fixed to one side as you rest your head on the desk and watch him walk back around to your side.

“Feet apart,” he commands after picking up the metal bar.

You shuffle your feet apart, feeling your lips spreading as well, then Mr Lee bends down to affix the cuffs at the ends of the bar to your ankles, moving your feet carefully to fit the instrument between them properly; again his touch is gentle, even loving sometimes, and there are no doubts in your mind that you are in the safest of hands. His eyes look up from your ankles to your cheeks that are darkened from the spanking, and as he stands behind you he can’t resist one more slap against your sensitive skin.

“Ah!” you cry out, not expecting the contact at all.

“Again?”

“Yes,” you groan, unintentionally wiggling your hips at him.

He alternates between your cheeks until he’s satisfied with the imprints of his hands that are now practically glowing, and he steps back to admire his handiwork as he shuffles out of his pants and shrugs his shirt from his shoulders. You look so beautiful right now with your legs forced apart, your glistening folds waiting for his erect member to slide past them, and your torso lying flush against the desk with your hands restrained so you couldn’t reach out for him. He strokes himself as he watches you twitch in anticipation, wondering what he was going to do next, and smirks to himself as you try to tilt your head to see him but fail.

“Please,” you whisper desperately, “please Sir.”

“Please what? What do you want me to do?”

“Anything,” you whine as you long for his touch, “please.”

He stays silent, slipping a condom over his stiff length in preparation, but surprises you by kneeling down on the floor and diving into your waiting entrance with his tongue, grazing your clit with his bottom teeth before pressing his tongue flat against it then lapping at the hardening nub. You automatically pull against the restraints as a surprised moan escapes your mouth and you’re craving your freedom to reach around and press his head against you, but you have to push your hips back instead in an attempt for more.

He stops flicking your clit and tuts at your action, “you need to remember that this isn’t for you, this is all for me,” he scolds, rising to his feet.

“Sorry.”

He smacks your backside, “sorry, what?”

“Sorry Sir,” you almost pant, your body aching for him to do something else to you.

“Better,” he says before pushing his erection into your core and filling you within a matter of seconds.

“Yes!” you gasp, your fingers curling around the edge of the desk.

He sets a punishing pace as the desk creaks and groans beneath you, the feet of it scraping ever so slightly against the floor with each forceful thrust inside your damp walls, and your body judders against the desk with each movement, your breasts being pulled back and forth every time.

“Mr Lee,” you pant, “oh, Sir.”

The hands that lay on your hips move up to the base of your back before sliding up your spine until he can gather your hair together and wrap it around one set of fingers before his free hand returns to your hip where it grips onto the soft flesh tightly, making sure he anchors himself securely as he continues to ram into you mercilessly. He tugs at your hair, causing your head to lift from the desk so that you’re facing the wall behind his chair, then he leans down while his hips keep moving and bites into the skin that lies over your shoulder blade which earns a stuttered whimper from you. He straightens up again, pulling you hair tighter as his finger tips dig into your hip, and you think of the small round marks that will be a reminder of this moment for days to come. Grunts start to come from the domineering man behind you, his body hitting against yours at full force as he begins to climb towards his orgasm already.

“Say my name,” he demands through gritted teeth.

“Mr Lee,” you cry out, “Mr Lee.”

He suddenly lets go of your hair, your head almost dropping onto the desk, and his hands go straight to your breasts to lift them from the table and knead them in his palms before keeping his fingers pinched to your nipples, twisting them from side to side as you arch your back. You can feel the sweat sticking your bodies together where they meet and his movements become sloppy as he chases his high with a renewed urgency, then with one final long groan and a tightening of his fingers on your nipples he stops still for a moment before shuddering a little as he orgasms.

His whole demeanour changes as soon as it’s over and he immediately lets go of your breasts as one hand slides underneath your stomach to rub your sensitive nub while he gently moves in and out of your drenched core, and soon enough you begin to pulsate around his length; letting go with an almighty cry. He’s quick to undo everything as you stay stuck to the desk unable to move on your wobbling legs, and he helps peel you from the wood before guiding you into the bedroom next door.

“My beautiful girl, you did so well. Thank you for indulging my fantasies like that,” Gwil breathes against your skin before kissing your shoulder and stroking your hair, “I never imagined the role play would be that much fun, but you… well, you made it perfect. I love you so much my darling.”

You lean into his body as you both walk towards the bed, your limbs tired and aching, your bum stinging, but an overall feeling of satisfaction and relief that you hadn’t broken character at all washing over you. Gwilym had suggested some sort of role playing activity a while ago, and now that you were in lockdown together it had been the perfect time to explore his fantasy; the thought of it definitely having a positive effect on you as well.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, kissing your cheek.

“Yeah,” you sigh happily, your hand rubbing your opposite wrist as the marks begin to show up from the cuffs.

“Darling, I’m so sorry, do they hurt?”

“No, not at all my love,” you smile as you turn to him, “I enjoyed every second of it.”

“You did? You don’t have to say that just because of me.”

“Honestly Gwil, I loved it. Couldn’t exactly fake my arousal, could I?”

“That makes me really happy. _You_ make me really happy. That was _incredible_ , I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you,” he breathes, placing his hands on your cheeks and kissing your lips lovingly, “now you go and lay face down on the bed and I’ll help soothe those sore cheeks of yours.”

You climb onto the bed lazily and your body flops forwards, your head turned to one side on your pillow as you slide your arms up to rest your hands beneath the soft landing for your head, and you feel the weight of Gwil as he sits next to you with a bottle of your cocoa butter moisturiser in hand. Your tired eyes watch as he squeezes some onto the palm of his hand then rubs them together before reaching out to your pert bottom and carefully rubbing the cool lotion into your hot buttocks.

“Is that better?” he asks as you hum quietly.

“Mhmm, much better thank you.”

He leans over and kisses the base of your spine before shuffling off of the bed and continuing his soothing massage until his hands move down the length of your legs to the faint marks appearing on your ankles; a dash more moisturiser being spread on his hands to cover the irritated skin.

“Give me your hands sweetheart,” he whispers as he crawls back onto the bed and lays next to you on his side.

You slide your hands out from underneath the pillow then roll onto your side and extend your arms to him with a sleepy smile.

“That’s really taken it out of you, hasn’t it?” he asks with an air of concern as he gently runs his fingers around your wrists.

“It has,” you yawn, “but only ever in a good way.”

“I really love you, you know that right?” he questions with a furrowed brow of sincerity.

“Of course,” you chuckle, “and the feeling is entirely mutual. Why else would I agree to effectively not being able to sit down properly the next few days?”

He smirks at your comment then pulls your hands towards his chest so he can wriggle closer to you, “I’ll be thinking about what happened today a hell of a lot.”

“So will I,” you grin mischievously.

His arms reach around your body and pull you over onto his chest where the two of you lay in a comfortable and loving embrace until you both drift off to sleep; exactly what you needed after the thrilling events that had just taken place.


End file.
